


(Don't) Want To Remember

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Civil War (Marvel), Commander Rogers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fix-It, Getting Together, M/M, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-26 11:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13235145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: After Civil War, Steve and Tony don't want to so much as even talk to each other--but then they're trapped in a snowstorm and are forced to cuddle. It works out better than expected.





	(Don't) Want To Remember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> For the following prompt: “After the events of Siege, Steve and Tony's relationship is still strained. Unfortunately for them, they get snowed in and have to finally confront each other. (Or cuddle silently while still mad.)”
> 
> With big thanks to FestiveFerret for the great beta job!

“Wonderful,” Steve said, as the lights powered down, leaving only the dim emergency lighting on. “Stark Resilient can’t even keep power on in their warehouse. Why are we even here?”

Tony spun around. “ _Seriously_ , Steve? It’s not like I asked you to come here.” Quite the contrary, in fact, but Steve seemed to think Tony would go and start another war the moment Steve—sorry, _Commander Rogers_ —let him out of sight. 

Of course, as Tony couldn’t remember anything about the war, he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t do it again. Not that Steve would trust him anyway.

“You said you had a suit here,” Steve reminded him.

“I said I _might_ have a suit here,” Tony corrected. “I also said it wasn’t any of your business.”

“Handling WMDs is in my job description,” Steve said.

“Oh, do you oversee everything in person? Ever heard of delegation?” Tony snapped. Really, it was grating that Steve thought he could order Tony around, but why he insisted on coming himself . . . Tony thought again he should’ve just lied, but he didn’t actually want to antagonize Steve further. 

He missed the times when they agreed with each other. He missed being friends with Steve. He was almost sure he’d ruined it himself.

Steve clearly elected to ignore the jab, because he didn’t answer and he was looking around the hall. There was some heavy duty machinery there, but nothing so much as resembling an armour. Tony was a bit worried—not remembering what he did with the Hulkbuster armour, presumably to keep it out of Osborn’s hands, wasn’t exactly a good thing—but he still had a list of three other facilities where he might’ve hidden it. 

Why the power dropped to emergency, though, was another issue.

They were in the middle of nowhere; no one had been using the warehouse for years. It made sense for the installation to be rusty, but Tony didn’t like that it died at this particular this moment.

“Okay,” he said. “No point fixing the lights now; let’s just head back.”

Because a two-hour quinjet ride with a Steve who was more than a little mad at him was just what Tony needed. It had been bad enough flying here, and it would be worse flying back, now that they knew the trip was pointless.

“Should we check out the next facility?” Steve asked dubiously.

Tony shook his head. “It’s getting late.”

Steve nodded brusquely. 

Tony started walking to the exit. When did they get here, he thought, to the point when he _avoided_ spending more time with Steve? When Steve hated to even see him?

Maybe not remembering was better. What Tony read about the Superhero Civil War was bad enough. But god, Tony was a scientist, and he _hated_ not knowing.

He opened the door, meaning to step out, and was pushed back in immediately by a gust of wind; he knocked into Steve who stood right behind him. Steve steadied him, one hand on his hip and another on his arm, and for a moment they stood like that, a meaningless touch that Tony didn’t want to end.

Steve stepped away first. 

He peeked out, carefully, but Tony already knew it was useless. The snowstorm, sudden as it was, wasn’t a joke.

Steve clearly agreed, going by the way he swore.

“I’m not flying in it,” Tony said. “Not unless Galactus attacks New York, at least.”

The quinjet was built to last through a lot, but Tony didn’t actually like taking unnecessary risks.

Not if he wasn’t the only one that’d be in danger.

“So what do you suggest?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Staying here?”

His meaning was obvious. An industrial hall with no reliable electricity supply—and no heating—was hardly a good place to wait out a snowstorm.

Then again, the quinjet wasn’t actually parked right outside; the forest was dense around here, and they’d had to walk. It was part of the reason why Tony had suspected his armour could be here; it was hard to get here.

“Better than walking out there,” Tony said. “If I had come alone, I’d have flown in my suit—”

“I’m not keeping you here,” Steve interrupted. 

“I’m not _leaving_ you here,” Tony snapped.

They glared at each other. 

“If only you remembered—” Steve cut himself off, but it was enough for Tony to understand.

“This is not about my suit, is it?” he asked. “You’re still mad I forgot the war.”

“You didn’t _forget_ , you _made yourself forget_ —”

“I had no choice!” Tony yelled.

“Neither did I, and I have to remember every day!” Steve yelled back.

Tony breathed heavily. He knew he’d made mistakes. He knew they weren’t coming back from them. But he had no idea what was Steve’s biggest issue.

They’d talked, after the trip to Vanaheim. They’d hugged. Steve let Tony join the Avengers again.

They’d fixed exactly nothing.

“Great,” Tony said. “Well, you’re welcome to yell at me if it makes you feel better. I’m sure you have enough reasons for that.”

For less than a second, Steve looked inexplicably hurt. Then he stalked away.

Tony took half a step after him before stopping himself. It wasn’t like Steve could actually wander off anywhere. Tony briefly considered trying to fly to the quinjet in his armour to grab some supplies, but decided against it. The storm must be at its worst now; neither of them was hungry, and the blankets wouldn’t survive the trip back. He hoped the weather would let up soon. 

He walked to the fuse box next to the door. He knew there was no heating here, but he could at least bring back full lights, even if Steve had good eyesight and Tony himself was aided by his new armour.

Steve came back just as Tony fixed the connection error, flooding the hall with light. “Asking for heating would be too much?” he asked.

“I’m not actually a miracle worker.” 

Steve pointed at the other side of the hall. “Okay. There’s a room there. It’s empty, but it’s got carpeting, and smaller space is better.”

“Is it?” Tony muttered, but he followed Steve across the hall.

The room, which was probably the guard’s room when the warehouse was in use, was exactly as Steve said.

“We’ll probably be here a few hours,” Steve said, sitting down against the wall. Tony looked at the carpeting. It didn’t seem to have developed any life forms—maybe it was too cold—but it definitely wasn’t clean, either.

Tony sighed. He hoped they wouldn’t strangle each other. Steve looked tense, sitting with his knees up to his chest in his tactical suit that on a good day was just a bit too distracting. Now it mostly seemed thin, even if Tony knew exactly what kind of a material it was sewn from and its temperature isolating properties. 

But Steve, of course, always was particular about cold.

Decision made, Tony sat next to him, pressed against Steve’s side.

Steve glanced at him sideways. “Don’t you have an armour to keep you warm?”

“And leave you to shiver?” Tony asked.

Steve shrugged, the movement leaving Tony even closer to him. Tony wished this felt natural the way it used to.

After another moment, Steve manoeuvred his arm and embraced Tony, his arm strong and warm across his shoulders in contrast to the cool air. 

Tony glanced at Steve, but Steve was resolutely not looking at him, instead staring straight ahead.

Right. Clearly they could cuddle, just not actually talk to each other. 

Not that Tony was good at that talking thing.

It felt good, being next to Steve; it would feel better if he could actually relax, and better still if the circumstances weren’t so forced. But obviously there was no way Steve would even touch him otherwise.

“I kissed you,” Steve said.

Tony blinked. “Say that again?” he asked, because there was no way he’d heard that right. He half-expected Steve to say he hadn’t said anything and was Tony quite alright, but instead Steve sighed quietly. 

“After you got Extremis,” he said. “We argued terribly.”

“We seem to be great at that,” Tony agreed.

“I kissed you,” Steve repeated. “I thought it meant something, but then Stamford happened. And all the rest.”

Tony pressed the flats of his palms against his face. “You know I can’t apologise for whatever I did there.” Focus on the known, he thought; have a breakdown about _Steve kissing him_ later.

And he couldn’t even remember.

“Convenient,” Steve muttered. “I almost killed you, later. And then I died. And now you don’t remember anything.”

“I wish I remembered,” Tony said quietly. “I . . .”

“Don’t.”

Tony shook his head. “No, let me. I don’t know how I reacted, Steve; I don’t know how I could have fucked everything up so completely. I know I loved you.”

Steve was very, very still next to Tony. “Right,” he said.

“I still do,” Tony finished.

“If you’re lying to make me feel better—”

“I know you don’t—if you ever wanted me, I know you don’t anymore,” Tony cut in. “I know. It’s okay. But if we’re telling each other things now, well. That was the truth.”

And waiting for the storm to end would be that much more awkward.

Tony could feel Steve breathing next to him, in an out, not moving a single muscle. 

Okay, Tony thought. That was it. The ruins of their friendship, burnt. 

Steve moving threw Tony off balance; he steadied himself with a hand on the floor, and then Steve was kneeling over Tony’s legs, kissing him like his life depended on it. Tony kissed him back without even thinking; it was _Steve_. His hand found the strap on Steve’s uniform and pulled him closer, chest to chest with Tony, and Tony sucked on Steve’s lip and delighted in the way Steve shivered against him. 

Then the reality of the situation hit him. “Wait,” he gasped out, “Wait.”

Steve pulled back immediately, not far, because Tony didn’t let him, still holding the strap.

“What—” Tony hesitated. “What is this?” He couldn’t do casual with Steve. He probably shouldn’t do _anything_ with Steve: their last argument levelled New York.

But he loved Steve for years and he wanted him—so, so much.

“You asked me that the last time, too,” Steve said, leaning his forehead against Tony’s.

“How did you answer?” Tony breathed a question.

Steve kissed him again, quickly this time. “A beginning,” he said. He hesitated. “Let’s make it a better one.”

“Snowed in in the middle of nowhere,” Tony muttered. “We can hardly go downhill from here. And I don’t remember, but I think we can hardly do worse than the last time, too.”

“I remember,” Steve said. “I still want it. You’re worth it.”

Tony was pretty sure he wasn’t, but he didn’t want to argue with Steve, either; Steve was worth everything, too.

He nodded, and he pulled Steve in again.


End file.
